


M is for Mistakes

by goodmorningvietnam666



Series: IronHawk Alphabet [13]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Iron Man (Comic), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age of Ultron, Bonding, Clint's a good guy and helps out, Confessions, Drinking, Gen, Parties, Post-Movie, Tony is extremly guilty, toasts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 17:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4272003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmorningvietnam666/pseuds/goodmorningvietnam666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ultron had been defeated, the world was safe again, for a while at least, but not all of them came out okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	M is for Mistakes

**Author's Note:**

> After watching the movie, I wrote this, and had to wait until a letter applied to it to post it. In a strange way, I liked the plot and for the second time I sat in a Marvel movie and said 'this isn't too bad'. 
> 
> For me, this piece holds a lot of power, an insight into characters that seem, well, fake while on screen, unlike themselves when in peril, so this was my way of coping with the huge build up of emotion the Age of Ultron (both the movies and the comics) brought about in me. 
> 
> I just thought I'd give this one a bit of back-story - I usually avoid the cinematic universe and this explains, in short terms, why.
> 
> Enjoy the read!

Another party was being hosted in the Avengers Tower – people everywhere, drinking and writhing their bodies to music that he couldn’t ever seem to find the beat of, his team scattered about the room and talking with others. 

He was up against a wall, his arms folded firmly and a neutral expression on his face, and from here he could see all of this – the party in full swing – from a comfortable distance. He shifted his shoulders to gain slight comfort and sighed softly, tracing his gaze over the room once more and shaking his head: Stark was missing. 

He pushed off of the surface and threaded through the crowds, saying a causal hello and making small talk when he was prompted, taking two beers from the closest bar and opening one, ignoring the wry comment that he was ‘moving too fast for a committed guy’ and descending into the lower areas of the tower; where the music faded to dull thumps that shook the floor in minute tremors and conversations became indiscernible, dense and heavy noises as though everyone were talking into pillows. 

The drinks that were held between two fingers each were sweating, cool drops of condensation making the glass surface slippery, the wider lip of the bottle dangling precariously between his knuckles, swinging slightly as he walked. 

He found Stark in a lounge; bar, couches and television demonstrating the room’s purpose, his teammate was sitting near a window, back against the wall, his gaze turned clearly outward. He joined his friend on the opposite wall, sliding down the wall and bending his legs at the knee, resting his forearms on the bend and sliding the unopened beer towards Stark. 

His teammate regarded the bottle for a long moment “I’m supposed to be a recovering alcoholic you know” he said before he opened it, and half of its contents was gone in moments. 

“Missing the party” he commented softly, drinking from his own bottle as a form of pause. 

Stark nodded in reply, his drink placed between his outstretched legs, just above the knee, and his fingers circled the rim of the bottle. 

They both fell silent and he sighed softly before speaking “Are… you okay?”

He was treading on previously untrodden ground – he and Stark didn’t talk all that much, in fact, they barely knew each other as the men they were now. He was pulled from the thought when Stark stood and moved away. 

“Where are you going?” he asked, voice still soft and barely penetrating the silence of the room. 

Stark glanced at him for a moment, then brought out two glasses and a bottle of what looked like scotch then returned with a chuckle as he sat and poured the drinks “If I’m talking to you Barton, I don’t think I want you to remember what I told you”

“I haven’t even finished the beer” he half-protested, letting the bottle be taken from his grip. 

“Trust me – this is better”

He shrugged to himself, and when Stark joined him he held up the glass offered to him, smirked, and downed some of it. He regretted it once the drink hit his throat, and an almighty cough wracked his shoulders harshly. He brought a hand to his throat and coughed feebly again, smiling softly when Stark chuckled at his reaction to the strength of the alcohol. He sat back and stretched out his legs, careful not to let his feet collide with Stark’s as he did so. 

“So… what’s going on up there?” he asked gently, swirling around the liquid in the glass, gently. 

His teammate frowned for a moment, his gaze drawn to the window for a moment before it met Clint’s evenly “I made a mistake”

“Well… yeah, you did” he replied slowly, unsure how Stark wanted him to answer, and he sat forward slightly “But… no one… too important, got hurt and… well, we forgave you – people make mistakes”

“Not me… or… not usually anyway” Stark replied, staring down at his glass “So… what’s it like having kids?”

He blinked for a moment: he had forgotten about the Avenger’s new knowledge of his personal life. “I…” he began, and then drank from his glass to try and avoid the question. 

Stark chuckled “Don’t worry about it Barton: I’m avoiding the subject”

Clint nodded in reply, watching as Stark poured another drink for himself, tracing a finger around the rim of the glass in his hand “Are you… have you considered stuff like that?”

“No” Stark answered with a sorrowful laugh “God no…. me? I’m unstable – that doesn’t mix with a domestic life I uh… No… I’m better off without all of that…”

He stood and joined Stark on his side of the window, squeezing himself between the window and his teammate, their shoulders pressed to one another’s along with their knees and hips. The window was cool against his left side but he ignored it in favour of getting close to his friend. 

Stark laughed again with that same tone and then his head was resting on Clint’s shoulder, dark, unruly hair tickling his chin slightly “I just want to help people… why is that so impossible?”

He avoided shrugging and hummed “I don’t know Stark… maybe you’re bad luck”

Stark chuckled softly “Bad luck” he mimicked “That’s a new one Barton”

“What do you want me to say here?” he asked, minutely turning his head and shrugging his right shoulder to lift his friend’s gaze to his own. 

Stark regarded him for a long moment before he sighed and shook his head, closing his eyes “I don’t really know… I was hoping you were going to kick me around, not share a drink with me”

“Come on… I don’t do that: not to you – we’ve got history” he admonished, allowing his friend’s head to return to his shoulder and dropping his own to rest his temple on the top of Stark’s head, a sigh gently ruffling the dark locks. 

“It’s not good history”

“Still history”

Stark chuckled again and Clint sensed a hand reaching up but discovered it wasn’t for him when it was pressed to his teammate’s forehead “You’re almost as stubborn as me… you know that right?”

He hummed in reply “I know… it’s one of my best traits” he glanced up at the sudden cacophony of noise from the floor above but settled immediately after when it turned out to be nothing hostile “Paranoid is the next on that list”

“No shit” Stark replied, downing the last remnants of alcohol in his glass.

“Language” Clint countered with a grin, the expression widening when his teammate laughed in response, the warm sound filling the empty room with something better than silence. 

“Where were you a few years ago? I needed a good laugh” Stark commented in a teasing way and he chuckled in reply, the sound vibrating in his chest. 

He sighed and they fell silent, room’s atmosphere turning to something cold and uninviting. 

“Hey Stark?”

“Yeah?”

He took a breath to steady himself at the reply, and pushed back into the window, catching his teammate’s gaze “Are we good?”

“Of course” Stark replied with a smile.

Clint nodded “Okay… so, what was with you when we first met? Or, when we met again? After New York?”

The smile faltered and he wished he could take it back but Stark sighed and chuckled “I uh, a crush?”

He chuckled too “No shit”

“Language”

“Don’t be an asshole about it” he chided and they shared a soft laugh at Steve’s expense. 

He shifted slightly: the window was cold against his back, and Stark backed up and gave him some room: their bodies were no longer touching. 

“Here” Clint offered, clambering over his friend and pouring two drinks – enough to be downed in one go “We’re going to toast”

“Oh shit you’re going to make a speech aren’t you?” Stark responded, hiding his face in mock horror as they stood, facing one another and using the window as their back drop. 

Stark had one hand in his pocket, his upper body leant back slightly and his posture at ease, a pose Clint saw often.

He smirked “To fucking up, to the friends that you fuck up and to the friend’s that forgive those fuck ups”

“Steve would have killed you… but I’ll drink to it” Stark replied, knocking their glasses and downing his much faster than Clint, who was still adjusting to the strong taste. 

“You going to go back out there?” he asked after a moment of silence, basking in the intangible companionship now between them. 

Stark smiled and took his hand gently and cautiously “Only if you follow”

He should have yelled or protested to the intimacy: he was married after all, but it was harmless and he knew it – everyone else could do the chiding – so he smiled and nodded his head “I’ll wake up regretting it” he warned.

“So will I” Stark admitted, giving their joint hands a gentle tug “Drunk enough?”

He smiled “Not yet”

Once they went back upstairs, he left the rest of the night to their audience’s interpretation. 

They later called it a mistake. 

But they both knew different.

**Author's Note:**

> It's up to you if you see the romance or the friendship, this one was all about interpretation.


End file.
